Letters in Invisible Ink
by Cuddly Cat
Summary: Harry has been receiving strange correspondence since the moment he set foot in the magical world. When Harry goes too far in his pursuit of knowledge into things better left alone there are consequences. As Harry discovers that nothing around him is at it seems, insanity seems to be the least of his concerns. Harry/Harem, Ritual Lord Harry, Smart Powerful Harry, AU.
1. Obsession

Powerful eventually Godlike Harry, Rune Master Harry, Ritual Lord Harry, AU

Harry/Harem, will consist of… it's a surprise ^_^

(Suggestions are welcome though)

* * *

**Warning:** _This chapter and subsequent story is to be rated M for language, violence, suggestive themes, gore, and possible future lemons. Lemons might be given their own separate story instead in order to not hinder the viewing pleasure of others, or I will give fair warning to their inclusion in a chapter, the romance and subsequent relationships though will still remain in the story…_

**Official Disclaimer:** _I do not own Harry Potter or any referenced or related works in that may appear in this story. The right of any pictures or art I will ever use go to their respective owners, if said artist would like the picture removed from my profile or story, for that is where it would most likely be, please say so instead of jumping to conclusions of infringement.__The picture I am using in this story is Babu-chan's logo, all rights for it are reserved to them for the picture as it is theirs. If there ever is an OC inclusion in this or any of my stories, the resemblance of a name and/or physical appearance to anyone living or deceased is completely coincidental. __What I do own is the story concept, story board, the story itself, and any OC's I do create_

* * *

**Chapter I**

* * *

**Obsession**

**~x~**

Harry Potter had a secret, something that was so mysterious and confusing it made no sense even to himself. Every Saturday, no matter where he was, he would find a letter, a perfectly ordinary letter at first glance that was anything but.

This had begun since he first started attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry over 2 years ago.

He would find them everywhere, in cupboards, inside his textbooks, under his pillow, they always arrived, no exceptions.

The problem however did not lie with the letter themselves, the letters had nothing exemplary about them, except a single thing, the wax seal on it. A seal with the Hogwarts crest upon it. He would open the letter and look at the contents within only to find a piece of blank parchment every single time, without failure.

It was maddening, for some reason no one could see the letters themselves and if he tried to get rid of them they would merely reappear once more before him, even burning them was ineffective, and when the next letter arrived the last one would simply recede into the empty history section in his trunk. Where notes would have gone if it weren't for the professor having been a ghost and never teaching anything useful.

Why would someone go through so much trouble to send him letters through such a fail-proof method if they were blank?

Harry simply could not shake this feeling like these letters held some great importance, and so he obsessed over them, trying time and time again to make something out of it, even with nothing there.

He kept repeating to himself that they must hold some significance, a purpose that he could not yet see. Harry was nothing if not persistent and even though most people did not know it, he was nearly as smart as Hermione most of the time, the so called brightest witch of her age. Something that he did not know simply had a habit of getting under his skin. He would find out what made these letters tick, he _needed_ to know what secrets these letters held within.

"Test number 847, basilisk venom" said detached voice in a currently unused potions lab room

"Failure, letter destroyed" said the same voice analytically as they wrote something down on a notepad

If one were to look into the room one would be surprised at what they would see, just because of how bizarre it would look to them.

You see in said room was one Harry Potter, yet he looked so different one might just mistake him for someone else and the sight seemed so alien in their magical world it would strike them speechless.

There was one Harry Potter wearing a white lab coat, with goggles upon his face, and a medical face mask covering his mouth. Overall he looked every bit the part of a mad scientist with his shaggy black hair and attire, and nothing the wizard he was supposed to become.

Around him was all manner of lab equipment and potions, herbs and ingredients, a strange mix of science and magic that would put anyone in a state of unease. There were weird devices all around that periodically let out steam from various different orifices.

Harry had made a startling discovery a few years back after tinkering around a bit trying to figure out the letters. Using various methods, he came through a breakthrough while dealing with steam. Steam could be used without risk around magical outlets, this meant that the steam engine would function without risk around magic, something that he could not comprehend for which reason it was not commonly used. The only device that used any form of steam in the entirety of the magical world was the Hogwarts Express, which ran on magic more than it did on fossil fuels or steam.

It was a discovery that could potentially propel the magical community centuries into the future, as it seemed to still be living in near pre-victorian times, and which he had ultimately discovered how to integrate properly with magic after trial and error. He had decided over time however that the implications of such change would not be taken well by most of magical society and they would most likely reject it, violently perhaps. Even if by some miracle it just so happened that it was accepted by mainstream magical society, the probability of it being misused and used against the magical world itself, or even the mundane world at large was almost certain. It would be disastrous.

However that was not all he had discovered in his search for a way to decipher these letters, he had discovered advanced alchemy and runes the likes of which magical society had never seen, magical manipulation, secrets of dark and light magic, true enchanting, and even rediscovered long lost recipes in potion making to name a few things. His pursuit of knowledge simply compounding upon itself.

In the end he kept his discoveries to himself, accidental discoveries due to the letters, another reason to further push him towards his obsession. If simply trying to discover the secrets within the letters were yielding him such results, imparting him with such knowledge and ground breaking discoveries, what would the letters themselves ultimately contain?

It was a vicious cycle in which he had trapped himself within. In another timeline Harry Potter would have been introduced into a world of magic without purpose or direction to guide him, he simply would have clung to the magical world as an escape from the horrors of reality. Harry however had no such sentiments, he had a purpose, a goal, and that was to figure out the secret hidden within the letters.

Currently it was the summer after his second year, and he had yet to make little progress in his studies on the letters, he had been doing average in his schoolwork so far. Not because of lack of effort on his part, it was simply because he had been conditioned by his relatives to neither stand out nor excel, or to fail and bring shame to them. It was a conditioned sense of normalcy that had been ingrained upon him at an early age that limited him, but he was fine with it. He had enough attention himself as it was, it wouldn't do to have even more upon him.

The truth was that he possessed a mind that worked at a higher cognitive level that the average human, he learning things at such an astounding pace that even he could consider it freakish, it was as if instead of learning things as normal people do, he was simply recalling them. This combined with his ungodly aptitude for learning meant that what took others an exceedingly long time to learn and comprehend he could do in a fraction of the time. Overall his mental age was years beyond his physical age, annd for this same reason he had also to other people seemed to display increasing amounts of apathy and anti-social behavior.

However it truly wasn't any of that, it was just that in his mind the majority of students were just kids, and he truly doubted he could engage in any form of an intellectual conversation with any of them. As for apathy he simply did not care about most of the things children his age did, the only things he found fascinating were the magical world, magical creatures, expanding his already immense knowledge of magic, and discovering the mystery of the letters.

* * *

Currently Harry was spending the summer in Hogwarts for the second year in a row, the Dursley's had insisted that it would be for the best of all involved parties early on and sent a strongly worded letter through Harry to Dumbledore on his first year.

Truthfully while the Dursley's did not outright loathe him, they did not like him either. The Dursley's seeing him as an emotional and financial burden upon their family, one that had been forced upon them with no notification whatsoever. After all only Vernon worked in the family, and even with a management position it certainly shook up their stable lifestyle to introduce someone else so abruptly. If that wasn't enough there was also the bad blood between Lily and Petunia as well to take into account. Thankfully though Petunia was the bigger woman and let none of her distaste for her sister transfer over to her son, after all it wasn't he that stole the affection of her parents and made them neglect her. Can't blame the sins of the parent on the children and all that.

Truth was that as it was the Dursley's had not wanted any more children, they had only had one in order for them to leave a sort of legacy, as it was simply regarded as normal and traditional to have at least one child in order for the line to continue. However they had been forced to harbor another child, one that was not their own, and if that wasn't enough said care of the child was forced upon them. This having been accompanied with barely veiled threats to take care of him.

Truthfully the first thing they wanted to do was to give him up for adoption so that he could find a loving and caring family of his own, love that they honestly did not hold for him. However with that option taken away from them, they simply made do. They provided him with a decent education, food, shelter, and occasionally talked with him and such, but throughout all this they firmly established themselves not as family, but as caretakers.

Near acquaintances at best.

They already had a son in which they loved very much, they truly had not wanted another and just could not find it in themselves to act as such, to love him as if he were their own, it would simply be deceitful to both him and them. So it was with his entry to Hogwarts they had completed their task in raising him, and in the letter they had sent along with him stated that they had done their part in raising him and that it was now up to Hogwarts and the magical community to raise him into the contributing member of society he could be.

In the letter they stated that Harry was to remain at Hogwarts for the duration of the summer, for every summer until graduation. He was also to stay in Hogwarts for the Christmas break as well, so basically they cut all ties with the boy. Simply stating that he was at most allowed to visit if he so wished it and that they would reply to any correspondence Harry or Albus sent.

Truthfully Harry didn't mind, he embraced the magical world as a whole as his new home, the only part of the magical world he truly detested was the political system.

However his mind was on more pressing matters...

He knew that it had to be something of significance that would reveal the hidden messages within, most likely something connected to the magical world. The problem was that he was starting to run out of things that could cause a possible reaction, and he was being forced to use ingredients and items of increasing rarity and obscurity.

After the incident with the diary and the basilisk he had taken to use some of the rare parts of the basilisk to see if they would cause a reaction. He had taken the rarest parts of the creature himself, kept the head and commissioned the goblin nation to process the rest of the cadaver.

He already had a good bit of gold from what his parents left him, but he would not be able to access the majority of it until he reached his magical maturity in around a year or so. Until then he was confined to using his trust vault, however with this he was starting to amass his own fortune already, without having to depend on the actions of those past.

That was actually another thing that he despised, the fact that his actions, which were always under near constant scrutiny, were always likened to that of his parents. His achievements always compared to their own. It seemed like his very existence was like some sort of footnote on his parents resume, a side-note to the amazing Lily and James Potter. Honestly the reason most people knew his name was because he was the boy-who-lived, if not most people would have most likely simply referred to him as Lily's son or James's boy.

He was his own person and he would not let the expectations of others limit him, he would walk his own path instead of walking his parent's own. He had no limitations, no preconceptions, he would rise beyond the achievements of his predecessors.

"Note, pattern detected, substances with acidic properties displaying similar results of eating away at the parchment, discontinuing further application of acidic properties to the letters" said Harry analytically as he wrote what he was saying down

Another habit that Harry had developed overtime was that he would voice out his observations as he noted them down, a trait he developed maybe in order to provide a form of comfort to his solitude.

Harry's anti-social behavior had not earned him many friends over the last two years, frankly most people thought of his personality as a turn-off, it did not help that most of the people in Ravenclaw, his house, tended to not socialize much. Harry had long ago also closed his heart to most, a secondary side-effect of his detached upbringing, the most he would allow himself to interact with others was brief conversations, and polite small talk.

Harry proceeded to take off his lab coat and draped it across the back of his chair before taking his face mask off and collapsing onto his chair tiredly.

'I am running out of ingredients to attempt a chemical or magical reaction, I will have to most likely turn to _that_ soon. I was hoping I could figure out what was necessary to activate the parchments before I had to delve into such things, but it seems I no longer have any other options' thought Harry darkly as he looked towards a book that was on the counter.

It was leather bound with what seemed like thorn covered vines engraved around the border of the book. The cover depicted what looked like the fetus of a child inside a circle with a pentagram inside of it, and runes on the outside of the circle.

On the back of the book was a figure with the head of a goat and antlers upon its head, it had a human torso, and goat like legs. In one hand it held a scepter with two snakes intertwined upon it, and a spherical gem at the top which both snakes seemed to be biting down upon. On its other hand it held an open book, one that looked similar to this very book with only a minuscule difference upon it. On the cover instead of having the fetus of a single newborn, it had three, all three positioned in around the center facing away from one another. The entity was seated in a lotus position and one could but at a glance feel that whatever this entity was, it was powerful, like some sort of twisted god.

It was a dark book, an extremely dark book the likes of which even Voldemort would think twice about touching, there was only one of it in the entire world. It appeared before him on his bed bound in chains on the night he turned twelve, with only a single note bearing the Potter name appearing alongside it. Warning him of the books potential dangers. It simply being signed _– Potter_ on the bottom.

The book was indestructible and ancient, it said to have existed since the conception of the world itself, the item belonging and having been created by beings that went beyond normal gods. Twisted ancient beings that were powerful enough to bound fallen and dark gods to their will. The book was said to have borne all the dark magic that currently infested world, as all evil had been borne from its ancient pages.

At least that is what the warning note made by the sender said, frankly Harry just thought it was a book of Dark magic with some pretty powerful unethical spells and rituals.

He had removed the magical chains that bound the book long ago, all that was left was to open it, that being something that the note had said would be akin to damning both himself and the world to hell.

Harry simply gazed at the book for a few minutes pondering at what he should do. Truthfully he had all the time in the world, usually the castle had at most three adults on the premises during the summer, including Hagrid, and most did not care what he did as long as he did not leave the grounds of the school or trip the wards to a restricted section of the school or grounds.

If he knew one thing however it was that this book contained the answer to his dilemma, it contained the answer to everything according to his ancestors, yet the darkness that it held within it was near incomprehensible.

It was with a shaking hand that Harry reached forth and rested his hand on top of the book, the action sending a shiver down his spine.

He tried to convince himself that he was being foolish to fear words bound on paper, and that the fear that he had stemmed from him reading that note. As well as the screaming he heard after he initially took off the chains bounding the book, no doubt the effect of a charm meant to scare any people looking over the book out of simple curiosity. Magic however had ways of defying preconceptions, what one took for granted could easily be taken away and warped by the anomaly that was magic.

Harry suddenly steeled himself as he grabbed the book firmly in hand. He was a Ravenclaw, it was foolish to fear a book, and with that in mind Harry opened the book…

…and everything he knew came to an end.

For a single instance the world itself seemed to hold its collective breath, as a huge weight descended upon humanity. Death itself feeling a shred of despair. God's themselves felt powerless. Creatures of magic felt a primordial fear awaken from the very depths of their being. It felt as if a huge shadow had descended upon the world as all light simply seemed to die away for a single instant.

Dumbledore who had currently been in Albania making arrangements for the Triwizard-Cup in a year suddenly fell to his knees as his heart stopped for a single instant, he suffering a heart attack for the first time in over a decade.

Voldemort's shade suddenly flickered out of existence for a single instance, making Voldemort cry out in extreme pain as his very existence in the fabric of reality itself was questioned, his horocruxes powerless against this primordial force.

A perversion to life, a deprivation of the soul, a mockery of the concept of existence. Evil so dark it made the devil itself seem like the most righteous angel.

Death, torture, sacrilege, blasphemy, horrors beyond the concepts of humanity to understand, it was all there…

...Hell itself but a simple footnote upon its pages.

Currently Harry was still sitting before the book, but he was currently shaking uncontrollably, the book had connected itself to his mind and focused the entirety of itself upon him. The book literally contained enough madness and darkness within it that it could have consumed the world several times over ending it in an instant, but all that madness, all those horrible images were trapped inside the mind of one Harry Potter. A single instance that in his mind stretched eternally.

Harry Potter opened his eyes for the first time since opening the book, revealing them be an inky black with no sclera, pits of darkness unseeing.

Harry numbly opened and closed his mouth slowly for a few seconds as if attempting to say something, yet no sound would come out.

Suddenly upon the blank pages of the book a statement formed itself, written in beautiful penmanship in a graceful and fluid style, as if an edict from god itself.

_**You who have stared into the deepest depths of hell and seen things that even hell itself would shun, may you realize the grave sin you have committed, and may god have mercy on your soul.**_

It was at that point that a scream tore itself from his throat, one of such unnatural fashion it did not sound at all human. It was a scream with such pure despair and horror within it that it would resonate with the souls of those that heard it and inspire such grand fear within them that it would drive those who heard it to despair as well.

Madness, sheer madness… that was what he could describe the experience in a single word.

Harry saw all of it, learned all of it, heard all of it, **felt all of it**.

Harry could feel as his mental shields were destroyed in an instant only for barriers in which he knew not where they came from to stand before the tide of madness that threatened to consume him. Even they however fell one by one to the relentless onslaught, until suddenly all of the madness simply started to fall away and be absorbed into the dark recesses of his mind. Fear and madness, and all the horrible things contained in the book to be cast into depths of his very existence.

Somehow after all that, after an innumerable number of voices and presences threatened to consume him, he had emerged intact as an individual, and even he could not comprehend how it was so.

Suddenly he stopped screaming, the halt being almost abrupt in its occurrence, as his gaze drifted back down to the book. His eyes still an unnatural inky black, eyes that had seen places worse than hell itself and still the one that wielded them lived.

Then for the first time since the incident he spoke

"**I know what I must do"** he said in a dark echoing voice, unnatural to any who may hear it

And so he flipped the page and began to read

* * *

**Author's Note  
**

_Math, Harry has performed over eight hundred tests on the letters, he gets a new one every week, he has been going to Hogwarts and getting letters for 2 full years. Each year has 52 weeks, 52 x 2 = 104, which means several experiments a letter, on average 8 each. Which hints at the letters indestructibility, as is stated before the letters reappear before him after they are destroyed. They similar to the book are indestructible._

_The book appeared on his twelfth birthday before him with the name Potter on it hinting it was intended for him, he assumes at this point it is a gift from his parents, similar to the invisibility cloak. _

_The book takes a similar premise to the Necronomicon: The book of the dead a tale that is quite old. So if you find fault with such a concept as a book that can damn us all you are hating on such writers like H.P. Lovecraft as well, a well-established and recognized author who thought of such an idea long before me. It's a book of the occult filled with dark rituals and magic, do you really believe such a thing is created with the best interest of people at heart? _

_This story if I have not made it clear enough already differs greatly from cannon, plot points from both the past and future will be vastly different. This is a Ravenclaw Harry, he is not a Gryffindor. He has a different upbringing, has little interactions with others and is a loner at this point. That means he is not a part of the golden trio. He will interact with them later on though. _

_Harry thought of all the warnings on the note that was on the book as the ramblings of people that are paranoid of Dark Magic as most of Magical Society is. In his mind a book was just that a book, he is still at a mundane's way of thinking, and had the self-assuredness of a Ravenclaw of that knowledge can't hurt him, that it's just information._

_Chapter 1-5 are part of an intro sequence, most of the questions and concerns to a chapter are usually addressed the very next chapter. Chapter five will explain the vast majority of the intro sequence and help tie into and transition to the main plot._


	2. Madness

**Chapter II  
**

* * *

**Madness**

**~x~**

Three days had passed since Harry had opened the book, he needed not to feed or even need to go to the restroom, as his body simply seemed to not change or differ, as if he were in a form of magical stasis. It was as if his very existence was filled by the darkness the book had imparted upon him, as if he feasted from the very words he read upon the book's pages.

All the time as he read he mumbled lowly in some unknown language, which seemed to echo from the stone walls of the room.

Harry had immediately cast away all that he knew the moment he opened the book as he saw that all he knew was a lie. That all that he took for granted was but an illusion.

He saw it all in the books pages, pages that were blank to all but his eyes, eyes that had seen truth. A revelation of light and darkness so shattering it reconstructed him fundamentally.

Madness was but another idea, insanity but his muse, morals a limitation.

He immediately knew that he had changed on some level but he simply could not find it in himself to care. He was still himself, he had won the battle for domination in his own body, without a shadow of a doubt he was the undisputed king of the existence that was Harry Potter, a lord of his own body and mind. He having defeated the innumerable voices that attempted to claim it, conquered the madness that had tried to overtake him, he had **earned** the right to call his body and mind his own.

Even the devil itself would not rip him from his body, he who had thrice defied death, he who had conquered darkness and light and seemingly found balance. He who had lost himself to madness incarnate and found himself once more.

Ever since he had opened the book his obsession had seemingly shifted itself from finding the secret of the letters, to reading the book.

And read he had, all manner of horror that resided upon its pages, the truth of the world revealed to him, knowledge of other worlds imparted upon him, dark secrets discovered that made him question everything he knew.

The Philosophers Stone and how to make it? It was in this very book written in the blood of the very people used to create the damnable stone.

Thirty thousand gallons of blood from living sacrifices, thirty willing sacrifices and their souls, and seven wizards or witches of great magical power.

Those were the necessary ingredients to start the formulation of the elixir of life, which was then given solid form as a philosopher's stone through the addition of several other more materialistic ingredients and processes. Mostly the addition of all the ingredients that basically made up the human being itself and seven drops of blood from the alchemist(s) themselves. Then one was to make an alchemic circle in order to finalize the process and overlay it with a summoning circle that lead to hell itself. Which is where the thirty willing sacrifices came to play as they were offered to the summoned demon or dark deity and he would in turn finalize the stone in exchange for one thing… your immortal soul was to be his when you perished. He would then forge the stone by compressing all the bodies of the thirty sacrifices into a gem, the philosopher's process however did not end there, oh no. Then seven wizards had to feed their magic into it continuously and continue to do so even after their magical core was empty as they fed their very living energy into the stone and bound their souls to it for eternity.

…and that was some of the more light hearted rituals in the book.

Personally though that was one of the ones that impacted him the most, as the truth of the matter was that he had that same stone in his possession at the moment. Only one had ever been made, in this realm at least, and he was the sole owner of it now.

* * *

After the incident with Voldemort first Year, Harry had not fainted from Voldemort's shade going through him, but instead experienced mind-wracking pain. Harry with his consciousness fading fast and his pain addled mind managed to think of a plan. He wrapped the cloak of invisibility around the stone and used his remaining bit of magic to banish it back to his room, right as his consciousness failed him.

(Little known fact that most wizards tended to neglect, banishing charms can actually be controlled to an extent, it just had a smaller range of effect than if cast randomly. If it was random it could end up almost anywhere, even though they usually went to a discarded dimension where magic would see fit to dump the item or object in question. It was at magic's discretion if it was random, but if it was purposeful and actually coordinated it could be sent to anywhere in a five mile radius. In reality the banishing charm was no more than an unspecified displacement spell for those that did not care where the object ended up at. A spell that took an object from one place and deposited it in another)

When he had awoken he had been question as to what happened to the stone itself. Harry simply stretched the truth slightly, as he minded his words carefully so as not to be caught in a lie and said that after his confrontation with Voldemort the stone had disappeared, leaving the presumption that it had been destroyed.

Dumbledore hadn't fully bought it, but knew the boy was being honest when he said it had disappeared as he had been monitoring his mental equilibrium, heart rate, and blood pressure to detect any lies. He did detect a spike of the boy's tension and blood pressure at the question, but detected none of the mental tension or tell-tell signs of him having lied. In the end he chalked it up to he being afraid of being punished by him for having lost the stone. After reassuring the boy that no repercussions would befall him due to this, Dumbledore spent the next few months attempting to find through the mirror what happened to the stone, he was nearly convinced that the stone was somehow still in the mirrors pocket dimension of wishful dreams and forgotten promises. However all he saw as he gazed into the mirror was a future that simply could not come to be, a mockery of all his efforts. A world where Grindenwald was still by his side and Tom Riddle had become his adopted son.

Harry hated lying to the old man, but knew that it was necessary though, he needed to keep that stone safe. He felt it in the depths of his being, as if it would play a large role in his life even if he did not know it yet. He could not allow it in the hands of Dumbledore less he use it to attain the elixir of life, nor could he allow it to fall in the hands of Voldemort. He had to make it disappear, he had fought for it, put his life in the line for it, it belonged to him now. So he had kept it away from prying eyes, its existence lost to everyone, it surmised as destroyed and lost to the world as a whole.

* * *

Truthfully he was glad that the stone was in his possession, lest it fall back into the hands of the monster that created it. He swore he would see the Flamels die slowly at his hand, and be present as the devil itself came to claim their souls for their sins.

There were other darker rituals that were bound upon its pages. One, the one that was on the cover, utilized the fetus of a newborn positioned it a dual layered circle with runes around the border and a demonic pentagram with a sigil of power in the middle. This in order to purge the body of the innocence still remnant from the soul of the deceased child. Then one was to write a runic seal array on the belly of the dead child, before beginning an incantation, during the incantation the child's body would seem to bubble throughout it, as it would seem to boil from the inside out. Finally upon the completion of the incantation the child's body would rupture as it expanded exponentially, it appearing to explode in a shower of gore in all directions and in its place a demon of old power would remain.

It was a dark summoning in which the demon was a class above the rest, it being capable of inter-dimensional travel and not being bound to solely one realm. It was a tad more difficult though because one needed to know the name of the demon itself to summon it, not an easy task, and also because the price for summoning them varied from demon to demon. However some of these demons could go toe to toe with some gods and could alter some of reality to an extent. Overall one might be willing to go ahead heedless of the risk, as these were the types of demons that could basically grant any wish one so desired.

There were other rituals and magic's, so many others. Ways to break time itself, immortality, reincarnation, resurrection, spatial manipulation, gateways to other worlds, elemental ascension, demonic contracts, summoning, contracts with death gods, and self-alteration. It even detailing things like how to consume the souls of others and how to summon dark gods of such great power they could destroy the world with their might, leveling entire cities in an instant.

The book was akin to Pandora's Box, a WMD in an inconspicuous form, a herald of Armageddon. For in its pages resided innumerable ways as to bring forth the end of everything, it was a veritable devil's handbook to the end of days.

And Harry could not stop reading it, the voices in the dark recesses of his mind whispering to him to perform the rituals he read. Yet he ignored them, reading being his only priority, his only purpose.

As he read page after page, his hands seemed to grow ever so slowly a darker shade of black, after 3 days his arm half-way to his elbow was a pitch black color with wisps of darkness coming from them.

He idly wondered what it meant, and as he did an answer formed itself on the pages of the book

_**You who have touched the damned words of this book with your mortal flesh, may you repent for your idle hands' sin, and may your hands be damned to hell for their actions.**_

Harry was a little startled at that, but did not panic as he would have at any other time, simply looking at the words distastefully for a second before turning the page once more as he kept reading.

He had already made plans to attempt a couple of the dark rituals bound within this, the book itself having told him that he could not free his mind from it until he at least carried out one of the dark rituals bound upon its pages. And that with it the images would finally stop.

The images were simply haunting and came randomly and endlessly, a forest of trees that were once humans, the trees bleeding red sap. Lands of madness, where reality and illusions were one and the same. Deserts of torment, where every grain of sand was another dream lost. A young girl in front of a coffin as she cried, a man with a face that was sown upon his own selling promises and dreams, offering sweet words as he tricked children to give up their souls. One half of his face his own the other that of his deceased wife, eye and all.

Madness was but hairbreadth's away, it was a race against time, an unforgivable sin. He must hurry, he must finish the book.

* * *

**Four days later**

'Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!' the sound rebounded through the room as it echoed across the dark room, it looking positively dark at this point

The walls themselves were stained black by the dark magic that seemed to flow freely across the room, ash and soot having coalesced upon the walls, the sin in the room having already grown to such a point it had contaminated the very air itself with its taint.

Several candles seemed to be lit all around the room them not having died even after days of being alight.

Harry was currently sitting on the chair of the desk, repeatedly smashing his head against the desk at an unnatural speed with such force that if it had been anyone else their neck would have snapped instantly. As it was the desk itself seemed to creak in protest at his actions, until finally the desk gave out and broke apart.

The book that was upon the desk though strangely did not fall, simply remaining suspended in midair.

"It stopped" said Harry almost confusedly

Harry had already forgotten exactly where he was, he simply knew his identity, as long as he knew that he would be okay, the darkness would not be able to eat him. He had forgotten why he had opened the book, he only knew the simple fact that he wanted to learn something, which drove him to read more of the book.

He remembered he needed something, he just could not remember what. He didn't need the book, he already possessed it, it was right there floating in the air in front of him. He didn't need his name, he already knew it, his name was Harry, Harry Potter. So what did he need?

He had been trying to remember, which is why he had been repeatedly smashing his head against the desk in an effort to remember. It should hurt, but it didn't.

Harry was almost positive he wasn't exactly human anymore. He didn't know what he was, but he couldn't exactly remember what a human was either.

'Human, what a funny word' he thought amusedly as he chuckled before it became full blown laughter

Harry continued laughing at that for a few seconds before he abruptly stopped.

"Shh" he shushed the book as he lifted a single finger to his mouth in shushing gesture "Be quiet I am trying to think" he said seriously as he turned away from the book

There had been a really loud screaming in his head that had been ongoing for a while now, he had found out he had something called a soul fragment in him. So he did what any good boy or girl would do, he ate it.

More specifically he had his inner darkness consume it, but that is beyond the point.

It had been screaming for days now, driving him nearly mad, literally. But now it had finally gone quiet so he wanted to take this chance to think.

He knew he needed something, he just couldn't remember what, smashing his head against a desk was useless, and even after the screaming stopped his memory wasn't any better.

Maybe the book would know what he needed? He thought as he looked towards it

He was sure the book was sentient in a way as when he had thought something that pertained to his changes or himself it would answer him at times. However it would also give cynical and pessimistic comments about damnation, forgiveness, sin, and despair. It was really all quite depressing.

Harry simply waved his hand and the books pages fluttered, he was sure the book had an endless amount of dark rituals and terrible machinations. It was fascinating, its knowledge was endless, its pages unbounded.

Suddenly it stopped at a certain page which showed a male wizard completely naked with runic inscriptions and lines stretching across his body from head to toe. On each wall of the room he was in was the same magical circle with the only ones being different being the one on the roof and floor. Seven candles were strategically positioned around the magical circle with a pentagram with seven stars with nine points each which required a runic cluster at each points of the star. The man then had seven different runes within a similar star inscribed on their body representing the correlation of the type of energy that coalesced on the main chakra points of the human body, where not surprisingly most magic flowed from.

It was actually a pretty simple set up compared to some other rituals, and the cost of the ritual was simply something of equal value to that which you needed. So if you needed something like power you might have to sacrifice an adequate amount of knowledge to receive it, he did not know what he needed but he was sure it would not be something so simple minded as power. There was just one thing that made this ritual such a difficult procedure in which it would dissuade most people from even attempting it. It required that everything from the runic lines, to the magical circles in the room to be made using the casters own blood, something that was almost impossible as it required it to be fairly fresh. One would be dead long before the ritual would be completed.

But Harry simply looked at what it would provide him _"Exactly what you need"_ it said, slowly a dark sinister grin formed itself across his face

"Exactly what I need" he mumbled happily as a ritualistic dagger formed itself in his hand, and he grabbed the book with his other hand. He standing up and walking to the small room that was used for highly volatile potions and to hold creatures in which their ingredients would be needed fresh for them to be viable. The door was likely one of the few doors in Hogwarts that had been made from goblin steel, slowly Harry closed the door behind him as he walked into the room, the door shutting closed behind him with a resounding click.

All the candles that were in the room previously dying out. The only things remaining in the room was a broken desk, forgotten lab equipment, and a single letter that disappeared, just in time for another to take its place.

One week had passed, a new letter had arrived, and one mystery had been traded in for another.

* * *

**Author's Note**

_The reason Harry dislikes the Flamels is because aside from the ritual being pretty dark, it is also the only ritual that has directly affected him in any way and the only one he knows for certain that has actually been performed by another at that point._


	3. An answer to all your sins

_You can't judge a mystery story based on only a few chapters, read thoroughly and wait for more pieces of the puzzle to fall into your hand. What you believe or think is not necessarily what is going to happen or what is happening, thus is the beauty of a mystery novel. This is a mystery story, think things through, there is a reason for everything that happens. The letters have a purpose, the book was given to him with a purpose, and the book was made with a purpose. _

_Harry performs his first ritual in this chapter _^_^

* * *

**Warning:**_ Blood and gore _

* * *

Mys·ter·y (noun)

1\. Something that is difficult or impossible to understand or explain.

*The condition or quality of being secret, strange, or difficult to explain.

* A person or thing whose identity or nature is puzzling or unknown.

* * *

Chapter III

* * *

**An answer to all your sins**

**~x~**

If one were to walk into the room Harry was currently in one would have been horrified at the sight that would greet them, as it looked as if some grizzly murder had taken place not even minutes beforehand.

The room was originally quite plain with stone walls, and it had no furnishings whatsoever. Overall it was quite unimpressive.

But Harry had changed that by adding his own morbid decorations

Upon the walls were the required magic/runic circles, each one having several pentagrams at key points throughout it in order to focus magic properly, it working similar to the fashion a runic cluster did.

On the floor below him was a different one altogether from the ones on the walls, as well as another identical one drawn onto the roof.

In the center of the room seated in the lotus position naked was one Harry Potter, the said artist of this gruesome masterpiece.

His canvas the room, his medium… his own blood.

All around him was the blood used to create said magical circles and pentagrams, the room nearly stained crimson with it.

It continuously dripping down from the magical array above him, descending upon him like droplets of scarlet rain.

On Harry's body were a huge amount of runic lines the likes of which the world had not seen since the fall of the Aztec's magical civilization centuries ago. They reaching from his forehead to the soles of his feet.

Curiously over the very spot his lightning bolt scar was also one of the seven magical conduits of his body that channeled the body's spiritual and magical energy, and as such a seven pointed star had been drawn over it for the ritual.

Harry was not fully aware as to what he did, he was just doing what the book instructed. A puppet following instructions of something he knew not of, and yet he did it all with such surgical detail and precision it was nearly astounding.

If any of his runes and magical arrays were to be inspected any dabbler into such things would be stunned at the perfection displayed in their conception. In fact it was too perfect, inhuman almost.

"**It is time" **said Harry uncaring of his bleeding arms covered in a wide array of deep gashes in order to produce the necessary blood, which he then focused to said injuries through his magic. His very wrists had a gash going all the way around it, which had been bleeding profusely until just moments ago when he forced his blood to clot the wound. The strange thing was that Harry was not even pale at this point and did not display any of the tale-tell signs of blood loss.

Harry was actually quite surprised at that, for some reason he felt he should have died at the massive amount of blood loss he experienced. He did not know if it was due to the philosopher's stone or the book itself but inwardly he felt fine.

He had been waiting for one thing, midnight which had just struck.

He had begun the incantation, his voice echoing off the walls themselves as the blood that resided in the very runic magical circles seemed to become increasingly more agitated, until it looked as if the blood was flowing and moving across said magical arrays. The arrays looking to be nearly alive as it did so.

The blood started to heat up as smoke started emanating from it, it barely restraining itself from bubbling. The blood at this point looking like flowing magma.

However that was not the only thing that happened as the incantation was ongoing, the room throughout the ritual had continued to become progressively darker overtime as more of the devilish taint from the dark ritual bled through. The runic lines starting to glow a bright red color as the ritual progressed.

"**Tempus"** said Harry in his distorted voice as he finished the initial incantation

Suddenly one of the seven stars in the Outer ring of the magical circle below him lit up, this action making the star located on his body at the Base activate as the one for the magical circle did, the bodies root of magical energy located at the base of the spine. The star being positioned right at the base of his spine, a hard place to reach which he had managed thanks to his ritual knife that did it for him after he willed it to. It having carved it in place instead of tracing it across his body using his own blood as he had done with the others. This was the energy point of balance.

"**Alnitak" **

At this a new star lit up in the middle of the magical circle, the action being replicated as his own second star positioned over magical focus point came to life, this one located on the lower abdomen, this positioned over the sacral or sacrum. The star being positioned right above his privates. The energy point of vitality.

"**Potestas"**

Another star lit up on the outside of the magical circle, a third star appearing on himself as well, this one over his solar plexus, in the area above the navel. The energy point of will.

"**Alnilam"**

Another star lit up in the center of the magical circle, as another came to life and appeared right in the center of his chest. The magical focus point tied to the heart, the energy point of love.

It was at this point that he felt something, he felt as if his heart was suddenly wrapped in chains, and experienced a sensation of extreme sadness, as one would feel when one cries, yet he did not, he could not find any reason to be sad. Emotions were not real, they were but another illusion, the book had said so, a false medium created by the fabrications of the mind to make humans more accepting of their transient existence, a mechanism to fuel the one thing that gives life a purpose, hope.

Suddenly he felt a pain wrack his heart so powerful that it made him open his mouth slightly in shock as he clutched his chest, him being careful not to ruin any of the runic lines as he did so.

What was that?

Pain?

He wasn't susceptible to that, it was another transient feeling, an acknowledgement by the body of the world around it and the forces that interact with it, usually a rejection to outside influence. Was his own body rejecting him?

He felt it again, much stronger than before forcing him to let out a strangled gasp of pain at the feeling, his breathing shallow as he did so.

Suddenly he steeled himself, his eyes hardening as his resolve strengthened

'No!' he exclaimed to his body mentally making it cease its traitorous behavior

'I have earned the right to use this body, it is mine, and it **will**** obey me!' **he exclaimed darkly within his own mind making entire body shudder as he regained control over it and subdued it once more

There was no way his own body would get in the way between him and what he needed.

He continued on with the ritual

"**Oblitus"**

This time another star in the outside of the magical circle lit up, the action being imitated by the star with the runic symbol on his throat. The energy point of creativity.

"**Mintaka"**

The final star inside the circle came alight at that, but strangely it was dimmer than all the other stars, the action being imitated by the star that was on his forehead. Strangely however the glow emanating from it was black, and the runic symbol in the middle of it was seemingly broken in half, the lightning bolt scar on his flesh cutting through it. The scar glowing a sickly green color.

Harry suddenly felt an overwhelming pain at that as an overwhelming headache wracked his head, yet he continued on with the ritual. At this point stopping for anything would be too risky, he needed to finish this. This was the energy point of perception, located on the third eye.

"**Cognitio Intellectus!" **he finished exclaiming the last part being a twofold incantation

At this the last star lit itself on the magic circle on the ground, as the stars on the magical array on the roof also lit up. This one while the focus of the magical point was on the crown of the head, at the very top of the skull, in wizards it was rerouted to the palms of the hands as well enabling their magic usage as it connected all seven main energy points to the mages hands to enable spell casting. While each of the energy points focused on certain aspects of magic and cognition, spell weaving and casting was for the most part a union of all seven in order to properly formulate magic. So instead he had two stars for this one, this being why the double incantation at the end was necessary as he had a single star on the posterior of the hand in the dorsal (opisthenar) area, and a magical seal on either of his palms to control his residual magic during the ritual.

With the incantation complete one could fully now observe the complete magical circle, and one would notice that within the circle were three stars that if one took into correlation their names and positioning one would recall a single constellation… Orion's Belt.

It was at that moment that something went wrong however, dark lightning suddenly arcing around the sixth star, which at this point had become a glowing pitch black. Suddenly Harry lurched forwards and started vomiting up black gunk from his lungs, which looked like black water. His pitch black eyes shedding a similar black liquid, as the same happened with the scar on his forehead as the black tar like substance bled slowly from the faded wound.

Harry knew what it was, the book had told him. The black liquid that he continued to heave from his lungs as it slowly surrounded him, the rejection of his own body. As Harry looked at the black water below him and saw his own distorted reflection, he knew without a shadow of a doubt what it was.

It was sin.

The ritual was correcting itself, it was incomplete, one of his magical gateways was sealed. His third eye was still closed.

He couldn't let it end like this, he was so close.

It was all the damn scars fault! Voldemort haunting him even in death, even when he possessed no memory of the man.

Suddenly Harry felt a weight make itself known as something rested upon the palm of his hand, he blindly ran his fingers alongside it. It was the dagger, the same one he had used to shed his own blood.

Why did it rest upon his hands? What did it beckon him to do?

Harry heard the voices in his head whisper back to him, the book guiding him in his actions.

Cut it open they said? Free it? Die?

Was that it, is that what he needed to do, die?

His hand clenched itself around the hilt of the knife, he knew what he must do.

Harry's body was shaking, his entire body seemed to be falling apart, barely being held together by the darkness that lurked within a veritable bag of flesh.

With a shaking hand Harry positioned the dagger toward himself, his eyes still black pools of darkness as he stared unseeingly forward, black tears cascading from his eyes.

With a quick movement Harry shot the dagger forwards as he stabbed himself in the head and just like that it all seemed to stop. The black lighting finally ceasing its crackling and the dark bile rising from his throat halted.

Harry Potter was dead.

* * *

**Author's Note  
**

_At one point it is stated that the philosopher's stone is considered as a possible cause of him surviving his exsanguination (loss of blood). So let me make this clear, Harry is the sole owner of the stone, it is in his possession and he has bound it to himself. If one is presented with the means of living theoretically forever would one not take it? Harry did_

_Its effects are long-lasting, he does not need to continuously be in possession of the stone at any point in time to feel its effects. As for the Flamel's… I guess you will have to read on to find out now won't_ _you_ ^_^

_The stone is the basis of the elixir of life which basically grants immortality, this does not mean that Harry can't die, it just means time is not an issue for him as he can't die of old age.  
_

_Also if you have any questions simply review or PM them and I will reply, no spoilers though, if the question ties too much to the plot I will detail as such in my reply._

_Flaming is not appreciated, this is a mystery story so if there is something you have yet to understand it will likely be covered/revealed on a later chapter, so be patient with me. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic after all._


	4. Paradox

**Chapter IV  
**

* * *

**Paradox**

**~x~**

It was not even a minute later when Harry opened his pitch black eyes once more, confusion the most prominent thought in his mind. He didn't understand it, he should be dead. He had stabbed himself in the head, right where his third eye was. His hands still holding onto the hilt of the knife he had used to do so.

He then felt his hand moving with a will not his own, that was more likely than not the dark magic that coursed through him, or the very book that whispered to him. He felt it cut across his forehead slowly, methodically. It tracing the scar he possessed with near surgical detail as it cut it open, the knife glowing a menacing silver as it did so, as the metal shimmered in the candlelight of the dark room.

He found out that even though he should no longer feel such things, he felt pain, so much pain. It felt as if he were not simply cutting his mortal flesh, but as if he was carving open his very soul as he did so.

When his hands finished carving the scar open, something happened that would scar Harry for a long time, as he had everything he thought was truth aggressively destroyed before his very eyes.

Black tar was spewing from the wound at this point, as he felt something slowly be pushed out as it was forced out of his body. It falling with a wet splat in front of him, the very sight nearly making him wretch the dark tar from his stomach once more.

It looked like a tumor, a tumor which he intuitively knew had been leeching off his very soul. It was a sticky white mass, which looked akin to a large fleshy white egg. Harry could see something moving inside of it as whatever was inside wrestled with the entrapment's that bound it, the egg seeming to grow bigger as the entity within it continued to struggle, until it was nearly two feet tall and a foot wide.

Slowly the near flesh like cocoon started to tear as whatever was inside that seemed to be struggling to free itself from its prison succeeded.

And that is when Harry caught sight of it, the mere sight causing him to retch the black bile once more as he continued to vainly to empty his stomach at the horrendous sight.

I-it looked like a child, a new born child. Its slimy skin was gray, looking nearly rotten, it's large eyes had duel layered eye-lids that covered them, eyes that were a pitch black color that looked like ink, one of the eyes seeming to droop across its face slightly. Currently however both eyes were closed and they simply appeared as fleshy indentations on its face. It had only three fingers on each hand, it seeming as both its pinky and ring fingers had fused, the same with its index and middle fingers as well. Its legs were short and skeletal in appearance, they being curled up close to the body, obviously not designed for walking. It had no nose, no ears, and its umbilical cord was still attached to the fleshy egg that entrapped it. Its body was also connected to the egg by six other cords that were protruding from the beings back that attached to the egg as well, and finally it had a mouth with no teeth or tongue inside of it.

It was like a literal manifestation of sin, born from the womb of depravity, an incarnation of both wickedness and immorality.

Suddenly the sixth star in the ritual lit up, as the taint had been purged from Harry's third eye. All the blood on each of the magical circles that was on the walls coalesced until they formed a strange symbol that had the shape of a circle with a upside down triangle for two, and in the other two walls it had a circle with an upright triangle with another strange symbol inside of it.

Harry looked at all this in a mild panic, the book never said anything about this. The blood around him, his own blood tuned black with sin as it coalesced, and started reforming itself in a complicated array the likes of which no mortal could emulate. An artistic masterpiece mixing language and symbolism in a configuration of such grand intricacy it would befuddle the mind.

Suddenly the being in the middle of the circle, what had once resided in his own scar performed such a soul-tearing wail it rocked the very foundations of his sentience. It opening its inky black eyes wide as its mouth stretched inhumanly. It then detached itself from the fleshy egg that bound it, and utilized the tentacle like cords that connected its back to the egg to position itself upright. It facing it's progenitor with a haunting look as shadows seem to burst out of every orifice on its head, namely its mouth and eyes, those being the sole human like features it possessed.

Suddenly the creature lurched forwards, it using the tentacles protruding from its back to propel itself forward with an ungodly cry.

Harry saw his arms lift by a will not his own as his open palms faced towards the creature, his blood shifting itself across his arms as it created runic arrays many times more intricate than those previous.

It was at this point that Harry realized that what was going on was not his will at all, nothing that was happening was his choice, and it was something that went beyond such petty things as destiny and fate.

It was a lie, he was not a master of his own body, he was only a simple conductor of his life, on a track already set for him.

Suddenly a pulse of energy was released from his hands, as the creature crashed against an invisible barrier that had formed itself around the center of the magical circle separating the entity from himself.

The creature mere inches from his face with a translucent barrier between him and it, stared directly into the inky black eyes of its creator, Harry himself staring unblinkingly black. The creature then bellowed out a cry that sent a shiver traveling through Harry's spine, he knew he was inherently an observer in all this, but he could not help but feel intimidated as forces beyond his control shifted around him.

He observed as several strange runic variants and sigils crawled their way over the invisible barrier forming arrays of their own over it, depicting that the barrier was in fact cylindrical and that it stretched from floor to ceiling. Harry then observed the conception of something that any self-respecting rune master or experienced magical practitioner would label impossible, a three-dimensional runic array, and connected to adjacent magical circles no less. A literal tower of bloody runic arrays was what could be observed of the magical barrier, one could feel the power that was being fed to it from all of the surrounding magical circles.

The demonic child then seemed to cry out in pain as a strange symbol seared itself into its stomach, as if seared by some invisible flame into its flesh.

Harry's eyes widening as he saw the symbol. No it couldn't be possible, he couldn't have messed up this bad, such a thing could quite literally open the gates of hell on earth.

Two different rituals were merging together to something the likes of which even the book could not fully comprehend. It mixing a demonic summoning with his own ritual. However if it wasn't him in control and it truly was the book, it might just cause not one demon to emerge, but all of them. The world being damned instantly as hell bled over.

Suddenly he started to see the body of the dark creature before him start to boil from the inside out as it cried out. It growing marginally every few seconds as its body expanded like a balloon, as the demonic child cried out and thrashed about, its tentacle like protrusions slamming against the barrier repeatedly as it tried to break free. Having finished feeding energy to magic array his hands fell uselessly beside him as he looked on at the sight. Harry looking on dumbfounded as the weight of his actions suddenly descended upon him, this world was going to end not because of Voldemort or war, but because of his actions. Because of curiosity.

He suddenly heard a cry that drowned out the one's previous as he looked at the child, the child was around the size of a large beach ball at this point with numerous tennis ball size growths on its body as well. It was looking at him still, its left eye covered by a large tumor like growth, while the one to the right looked at him imploringly as a black tear rolled down its eye. The sight lighting a fire deep within Harry.

No, he would not let the world or the book control him, he would fight it. Slowly the runes across his arms changed from a blood red to an emerald green, his previously pitch black eyes gaining a glowing green pupil as he truly regained his sense of self, memories rushing back towards him. He immediately clinging on to his most powerful happy memory in order to fight back the darkness that encroached his mind, that of him standing next to his parents when he gazed into the Mirror of Erised.

So it was with this thought in mind that he managed to reclaim control of his body, and defiantly stood up. At this point the demonic child had stopped crying, its body having expanded to an unnatural size inside the barrier as it bubbled and grew, it looking at its creator with a lone eye that was quickly being covered by the numerous bloody tumors its body was creating in order to prevent it from rupturing.

At this point the walls of the room were seemingly translucent and there appeared to be hundreds of demonic like figures all reaching towards him and the demonic child, vying for the opportunity to manifest on earth and claim the soul of the child of prophecy as their own.

The demonic child then made a pitiful mewling sound which made something snap inside of Harry, as he quickly moved forward towards the runic array, his right arm glowing a bright green as he did so.

Harry pulling back his fist before slamming it into the invisible barrier causing cracks to appear all over it, he continued to repeat the action causing it grow. It was around the point that the inside of the barrier had become nothing more than a pillar of flesh that he pulled his arm back one final time and focused on all the positive thoughts his parents evoked in him. Of the idea of having been raised by them, of actually having a mother and confirming all the nice things he had heard about her. Of actually being happy…

**"Ahh!"** he shouted as he slammed his fist against the barrier one final time, his arm actually going through it. The runic array in his arm presenting a poradoxal equation to the ritual as one of the means to formulate the ritual became part of the ritual itself, formulating a ritual inside a ritual.

Instantly everything inside the barrier ceased to exist as the paradox was corrected, this creating a singularity as the space inside the barrier seemed to implode in on itself as everything inside seemingly stopped existing, taking his entire right arm along with it instantly. Harry barely had time to react as the point in space that was created from the paradox sealed itself and released a shockwave outwards. This blasting him back into the wall of the room and destroying his right eye instantly due to the proximity of it to the hole in the barrier made by his right arm.

The room slowly descended into a tense silence. Harry's body slumping against the wall as the stump that was his right arm continuously bled across the floor. Suddenly Harry started chuckling, before that chuckling turned into full blown laughter. He laughing at the ridiculousness of it all as he recalled what brought him to this point in the first place finally, the damn letters.

His first ritual and he nearly damned the world and killed himself, definitely not his forte, but damn if it wasn't exciting.

He leaned down and with his blood wrote a rune sequence on the ground in order to purge the dark miasma from the room, it having been created from the dark rituals performed in it.

However curiously he noticed that in the middle of where the old array had been positioned there seemed to be a large lump in it that he could not make out clearly. Immediately his thoughts fell on the baby like creature from before, truthfully he did not know what to make of it. Initially he thought it was simply the horocrux, he had thought he ate that, but now he wasn't so sure. Did maybe the darkness that lived inside of him twist it into something else?

Carefully Harry stood up, he wasn't sure of the extent that the philosopher's stone and book had in keeping him alive, but he knew he was pushing it with all that had happened in this ritual and he wasn't going to take any chances.

As he slowly made his way over to the place where the ritual took place he expecting to see the remains of the demon baby, he however came upon a sight that he could have not dreamed of in a million years. There laying on her side naked was a woman with strawberry red hair that looked akin to flame reaching all the way down to her shoulders.

Unbidden the words came to his lips as he gazed at her, completely confounded beyond belief at this point.

"Mother?" he asked in disbelief as he looked at the woman laying before him, once more finding himself submerged in events beyond his control.

* * *

**Author's Note  
**

_Just noticed this rhymed: It was like a literal manifestation of sin, born from the womb of depravity, an incarnation of both wickedness and immorality. _^_^

**Explanation: **_Okay next chapter closes up Intro sequence, and then we can go into the plot. For those that are frustrated with the Ritual let me clarify. He did the ritual because it promised him exactly what he needed, Harry at that point did not even remember why exactly he opened the book for, only that he did so with a purpose and needed something. _

_Harry as I have tried to make clear in previous chapters has not fully been in his right state of mind, bordering on nearly insane. He is now back due to a number of reasons; getting rid of horocrux, completing a dark ritual, getting rid of taint, and getting rid of all that black liquid that was inside of his body that was stated was sin, ect. He is now sane again and next chapter will look into many of things pertaining to the book, what went wrong with the ritual, and where to go from there._

_As for his arm and eye he has a book with some of the most complex dark magic on the planet, Voldemort built a new arm for Wormtail in Goblet of Fire in less than thirty seconds using __only __the guys blood. Harry is getting his arm back. As for his eye he did not lose the actual eye, he lost his vision from it, that can be corrected, plus lets face it Harry's vision is crap, that's why he wears glasses in the first place. Harry will not be crippled in this story, if Harry had truly been disabled by those injuries and the damage would have been irreparable he would not have been as calm as he was after he regained his bearings. It is a world of magic anything is possible, for Harry even more so.  
_

_Understand that the story so far is mostly from Harry's perspective, so he is the one that is analyzing what is going on, he is quite literally as confounded as you are with all this and will attempt to find out many of the things you ask questions about or wonder. Also during the time of the ritual he was not in his right state of mind, so that is why things seem a bit twisted and observations and thought process seem slightly askew. Now that Harry has fully regained his bearings we will see actual intellectual and analytical interactions, coherent thoughts, and more detailed explanations of situations from him._

_Flaming is not appreciated, this is a mystery story so if there is something you have yet to understand it will likely be covered/revealed on a later chapter, so be patient with me. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic after all._


End file.
